


Extraball

by strangeallure



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben is into it, F/M, Musicians, One Night Stands, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rey knows what she wants, light dom rey, sex in a recording booth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:22:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29534709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeallure/pseuds/strangeallure
Summary: Rey knew Ben was a DJ, knew he released his own mix tapes, too. She didn't know he slept, ate, fucked and worked all in the same space.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	Extraball

**Author's Note:**

> I've read a few reylo musicians AUs recently, and when I remembered [Extraball by Yuksek ft. Amanda Blank](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lzrOMSzS09s), inspiration struck.
> 
> Thanks to Frangipani for looking this over!

Rey pushes the door to his apartment shut behind them. It creaks and rattles; her leg bumps into something that could be a dresser or a side table. Paper rustles to the floor, something crinkles, might be a plastic bag. The apartment's dark. Shapes and shadows. Metal clacks on metal, a bolt being thrown.

She doesn't care. Only cares about Ben’s deep drawn breaths, little groans as she presses him up against the door, hands on his face, pulling him down as her hips push up. Her mouth is open and demanding, tongue forceful and lewd, even as she seeks the friction of the scruff around his lips, angles his face this way and that.

The roll of her hips is much slower than the quick dares of her kisses. She likes the way he squirms, the way his movements are slightly off-rhythm, off-kilter. She likes control. 

The clicking sound she almost misses, but the light burns the shadows from her eyes, makes her lids squeeze shut.

"Shit, that's bright." She squints at him. "You really had to do that?" 

"Sorry." His smile is crooked and his voice thick. Hair mussed, shirt rumpled beyond indie chic and his mouth even fuller, redder than it was at the club.

Ben makes an awkward gesture towards the space in front of them. It looks like a one-room deal. Fairly large, but cluttered and dirty: heaps of clothes, stacks of newspapers with used coffee cups and soiled napkins on top, creased pages torn from legal pads dense with scribbles. A big futon with crumpled sheets in black and white pushed into one corner.

What really catches her attention, though, is the big pane of glass to one side. A small part of the apartment is partitioned off. A half-wall and glass all the way to the ceiling with a music stand and a mic: a recording booth. Outside, there's a computer and a mixing console.

She knew he was a DJ, knew he released his own mix tapes, too. She didn't know he slept, ate, fucked and worked all in the same space. 

Rey turns to him and laughs, as dirty as the stained wallpaper behind him. "And I thought _We should work together sometime_ was just you angling for a fuck.”

Shrugging with one shoulder, he shoots her an open-mouthed grin. The glimmer in his eyes and the crookedness of his teeth shouldn't be this hot. 

\--

She sits on the mushroom-shaped recording stool, legs splayed wide. Ben is on the ground beneath her, legs stretched out around the metal rod the seat is mounted on, leaning back on his forearms, his muscular arms touching the insides of her thighs. His smile is lazy, his chest smooth and broad. The picture’s so pretty Rey feels no need to look away.

Every now and then, he pulls away just enough to take a drag from his joint, the heat of it almost too close to her cunt as he smokes. It's not the good stuff, but she likes the sweet smell anyway, wafting up as she raps about getting it on with other guys and girls. 

Earlier, she rode him on the futon. Kissing him hard until her mouth and chin burned from his stubble. Getting herself off with her fingers as she fucked him rough and gentle in turn. Making him fist the base of his cock, squeeze it tight, not letting him come until she was ready for a second orgasm. His body damp, straining towards her, hips thrusting up helplessly, no match for her thighs setting the pace.

When Rey finally allowed him to come, she pressed her whole body close, skin tacky and too warm against more skin, a stream of mumbled words wet and hot against her ear as she sucked a bruise into his neck. 

They've been recording for a while now. She likes that they didn't put their clothes back on. She likes the idea that Ben did this before: that other people sat on this same stool, sated and a little fucked out, spewing rhymes and improvising lyrics to one of his tracks.

She likes his sound, too, his style, doesn't think her judgment's clouded too much, even if she's still a little high on his pot and two fantastic orgasms, the promise of a third looking up at her with dilated pupils and slow-moving eyelashes.

She even likes his voice. It's like his apartment, like this night: a little seedy and imperfect, definitely not something anyone's mother would approve of. Mumbling and too low, to the point she's not sure she understands all his lyrics. She's sure she gets the meaning, though. 

The track they’re working on is coming along great. It’s about to pop, Rey can tell. The music's on endless repeat in her headphones, and she adds something new to her lyrics each turn, molding her words around Ben’s track until it's hers, too. This is good, she can feel it. Can feel the energy that's all her, a current pushing its way through her veins, making her skin buzz and her cunt wet. She shifts forward in the seat and reaches out a hand for him. He looks up and grins lazily, half-lidded and, improbably, almost boyish.

She winks and smiles cockily, pushing her legs wider apart in invitation. _Let's add just a little something extra._

When he presses his face between her thighs, she wonders why they didn't do this earlier. His lips are thick and soft and sinful, and his stubble coarse, almost abrasive. It's even better against her sensitive cunt than it was against her mouth.

Ben eats her out slowly, thoroughly, rubbing his face against her, his tongue tracing every crease, chasing her taste, snaking around her clit – rough on smooth – until it feels heavy, almost aches, pushing her heartbeat into his mouth as he sucks it between his lips.

It’s unbelievable Rey's still rapping, but here she is: lyrics coming out thicker, voice lower, emanating from somewhere deep down. Her words mix with muted, hitched breaths, and it sounds dirty hot even to herself. Her hips still move smoothly, she has a good rhythm going: tiny circles as her fingers rake aimlessly through his thick, dark hair, making it stand up at wild angles.

He pulls back a little, chin and mouth and even the tip of his nose glistening, and takes another drag from his joint. Flicking off the ashes, Ben leans forward, so close to her cunt. He blows the smoke out slowly, a warm, steady stream across her folds, and she answers with a loud moan she has no chance of containing. Not that she wants to. 

Grinning smugly, he dives back in, tongue lapping inside her, the hand with his joint coming up to rest on her pubic hair, fingernails scratching softly. She can feel the heat of the burning tobacco against her stomach. Ben's thumb finds her clit, rubbing roughly. It might not be the best idea to have a lit cigarette so close to her cunt – but right now, it sure as hell feels like it.

Soon, Rey doesn't even try rapping anymore. She gets rid of the headphones and buries both hands in his hair, pulling him closer still. The filth she's spewing now is just for him.

Fingers join his tongue as it tries to get deeper inside of her, pushing fast and insistent, circling friction into the sensitive outer part of her opening. His mouth travels up further, opens over his own thumb, teases her clit. She can still feel his stubble: against her thighs, against her cunt. Different from the softness of his lips, the roughness of his tongue, different from the sharp smoothness of his teeth, too.

She's close, hands clamped around his skull, hips pushed forward, riding his face. Suddenly, his thumb slips away, and he sucks her clit into his mouth fully, lips closing tight, edge of his teeth pressing into the soft flesh with the force of it.

And suddenly, she's done. She digs her fingernails into his scalp, pushes herself into his mouth as the orgasm tears through her, rattles her bones inside her skin.

Rey slumps forward, breath harsh and ragged. "Holy shit." 

\--

She wakes up before Ben and doesn't bother showering, simply gets dressed.

With her lipstick, she writes onto the glass of the recording booth: _Send me the track when you're done! XO, R_ She leaves her email and cell number, too.

Rey doesn't mention a repeat performance, but the way he took her from behind before they crashed on his futon, deep and forceful and so fucking perfect … _Yeah_ , she knows they'd both be up for it some time. 

**Author's Note:**

> _extraball: 1) to have sex multiple times in one sitting 2) to have more than one orgasm in one sitting_
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


End file.
